Honor Reclaimed (HORNET #2)

Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

Problem? What problem?

Seth shuddered violently at her touch. When she put her hand on him like that, his only problem was the clothes keeping him from burying himself to the balls inside her. He fisted the material at her lower back as she continued to stroke him, the caress maddeningly light, almost non-existent between the numbing effect of his scars and the muffling of sensation through his pants. And almost too much. Wound as tight as was and still riding the effects of adrenaline from the successful training op, he was about three seconds from exploding. And he had to be inside her when he did.

“Sweetheart.” He caught her hand. Part of him wanted to pull her away. Another part never wanted the sweet butterfly caresses to end, and he pressed his hips forward, thrusting into her soft palm. “If we do this, I can’t go easy. Not this time. I’m too wound up, and I’m going to bend you over that bed and fuck you until you’re screaming.”

She inhaled sharply in the moment before his mouth covered hers. He showed her what he meant with the kiss, used his teeth to prove how hard he needed it, his tongue to show how he’d take over. When he finally released her, her breaths sawed in and out of her lungs, and she looked up at him with dazed eyes.

“You promise?” She backed up a step and dropped her towel, exposing her bare body to him. She was too good to be true. All satiny white skin with a faint dusting of freckles over her shoulders. Her nipples plumped and darkened as he drank in the sight of her, and his mouth watered for a taste of those tight buds. She was slim through the waist and hips, with a thatch of hair at the apex of her legs the same copper as that on her head. She squeezed her thighs together as his gaze settled there, and, hell no, she wasn’t hiding her arousal from him. He wanted to see her glistening with dampness, ready to take him. He hauled her toward him, turned her back to his chest, and reached around to find her clit. She cried out with something that might have been his name and bucked her hips, grinding her ass against his cock.

Seth slid his fingers through her slick folds, reveling in the heat and wetness he found there. She was more than ready for him, her body practically begging to be filled.

“You’re dripping for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes. Just for you.”

With his other hand, he roughly palmed her breast, tweaking the nipple between his fingers until she whimpered and writhed in his grasp. Her head fell back against his shoulder, exposing the slender column of her throat, which he attacked with lips and teeth, marking her tender flesh.

”Seth, please...”

“Please, what?” he growled against her ear before nipping at the lobe. “Tell me what you need.”

“You. Inside me. Now.” A desperate roll of her hips punctuated each word.

Jesus, yes.

He needed it, too.

More than he needed anything.

He kicked her legs apart and used his free hand to unzip as she shamelessly undulated her hips against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.

“Seth,” she gasped. “I’m so… close…” A shudder of release took her knees out from under her. He caught her with a banded arm around her waist and maneuvered her to the bed, bending her over the mattress just as he’d promised.

She caught herself on her elbows, ass raised invitingly as she looked back at him over her shoulder, eyes dark with desire.

“Hang on to something,” he said and her fingers clawed at the blanket. He took himself in hand, found her entrance, and inched into her heat. She drenched his tip with her arousal, reminding him they needed a condom.

Goddammit.

He held agonizingly still as he searched through the many pockets of his tactical pants. He knew he had one somewhere…

“Seth,” she whimpered. “Move.” She spread her legs wider, taking him in deep and almost making the condom unnecessary. He held his breath as heat coalesced at the small of his back, and his balls tightened.

Too close.

Condom , he thought again once he got the rising tide of his orgasm under control for the moment. He continued his search, all but emptying his pockets on the floor until he found the damn thing in a leg pocket and withdrew from her to slide it on.

“No,” Phoebe cried and arched to keep him.

He flattened a hand on her lower back, holding her steady as he sheathed himself, gripped her hips, and drove into her with one brutal thrust. She cried out, a broken sound of pleasure and pain, as he stretched and filled her. He paused for only a heartbeat, giving her a chance to adjust to his sudden invasion before setting a punishing pace.

Fuck, she felt good.

Each powerful snap of his hips rocked her forward on the bed, her fingers scrabbling at the sheets as she tried to find purchase. The room filled with the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, her needy moans, and his guttural groans.

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?” he rasped, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust. “My cock splitting you open, fucking you so hard you’ll feel me for days?”

“Yes.” She pushed back to meet each savage thrust. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He had no intention of stopping. Not until he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from her body and spilled himself deep inside her. Seth shifted the angle of his hips, hitting that special spot within her that made her keen and clench around him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me,” he commanded roughly, reaching around to circle her clit with calloused fingers. “Let me feel you.”

Phoebe shattered with a scream, her inner muscles rippling along his length as ecstasy crashed through her in relentless waves. He continued to pound into her, drawing out her climax until she was a boneless, quivering mess beneath him.

He leaned forward and nipped the skin at the base of her neck, and another shiver wracked her, nearly undoing him.

No.

He clenched his teeth against the need to come.

Not yet.

Seth pulled out of her abruptly, eliciting a plaintive moan at the sudden emptiness. He flipped her onto her back, needing to see her face as he took her over the edge again. Her eyes were glazed, cheeks flushed, hair a wild tangle around her face.

Absolutely fucking beautiful.

He hooked her legs over his shoulders, opening her fully to him, and plunged back into her welcoming heat with a guttural groan. She was still so tight, so slick from her previous orgasm. He set a relentless rhythm, each powerful thrust hitting that sweet spot deep within her that made her arch and cry out his name like a prayer.

“Look at me, Phoebe,” he demanded, his voice a rough rasp. “I want to watch you come undone.”

Her eyes locked with his, green irises nearly swallowed by blown pupils as she teetered on the precipice once more. Seth could feel her body tensing, inner muscles fluttering around his cock as he drove into her with single-minded purpose.

“Seth, I’m...” Her voice broke on a gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“I know, sweetheart. Let go. I’ve got you.” He slid a hand between their sweat-slicked bodies to press against her clit, rubbing tight circles that had her back bowing off the bed.

Phoebe came with a silent scream, mouth open in a perfect O as pleasure detonated through her. The rippling clench of her walls around his cock was too much. His hips stuttered, losing their rhythm as he spilled himself inside her with a hoarse shout of her name. His vision whited out, the intensity of his climax stealing his breath and thought. For a suspended moment, there was nothing but the pulsing ecstasy coursing through his veins and the feel of Phoebe trembling beneath him.

Slowly, awareness returned. The rasp of their labored breathing. The rapid thud of her heartbeat against his chest. The scent of their mingled musk heavy in the air. He rested his forehead against hers, their heated exhalations intermingling as they both fought to regain control.

“Oh. My. God,” she gasped, quivering with the aftershocks. “I’ll never move again. And I’m good with that.”

Seth dragged in a deep lung full of air and peeled himself off her. She was right—she didn’t move. If anything, she started sliding off the edge of the bed like melting Jell-O. He gripped her rear and boosted her up until she lay spread-eagle across the mattress.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her, still breathing hard. “Have to take care of this.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Yup, she was already well on her way to Dreamland. Seth smiled, a primal kind of satisfaction filling his chest that had nothing to do with his own release and everything to do with satisfying his woman.

His woman.

He kinda liked that sound of that.

The air in the bathroom was still thick with moisture from her shower. He tossed the condom, but when he stopped at the sink to wash his hands, he caught a glimpse of himself in the vanity. He still wore his face paint and all his weapons.

And she’d let him touch her looking like this?

He quickly shed the weapons and holsters, setting them on the bathroom counter. Then came his pants, his shirt. He ran through a shower, soaping himself up and rising off as fast as possible, his focus completely on returning to the bed, to Phoebe.

He had the evening free, and he didn’t plan on wasting a second of it.

Clean again, he shut off the water and stepped out of the glass-enclosed shower. Opened the linen cabinet to grab a towel—and came face-to-face with a full-length mirror on the back of the door.

Fuck.

There was a reason he only had one small vanity mirror at home. He hadn’t wanted to see this, the whole view of his torture in a stark reflection. It was bad enough seeing the scars on his face when he shaved and the blind, milky eye.

He looked at his hands, almost like seeing them for the first time. His palms were roughed from scrapes that had never healed properly. Raised welts covered the backs of his hands from the thin stick his captors used to smack his knuckles. He still had indents on his wrists from the cable he’d hung from for more hours than he remembered. Thin lines striped his ribs from the blades of multiple sharp objects. Circular burns from cigarettes. A brand on his hip—the Pashto word for infidel. The ragged ridge of scar tissue across his neck from when Devil sliced open his throat.

They’d intended for him to die before the SEALs got to him. By all rights, he should have. He didn’t know how he’d lived, and for a long time, he’d wondered, why him? Why not Bowie or Link, whose bodies had never been recovered? Or Joe McMahon, who had been blown into such small pieces by the time the firefight was over all they’d had to bury was an arm and his dog tags? Garrett Rey, who had lasted only four days in captivity? Or Omar Cordero? Why couldn’t he have just fucking held on a few more days?

Why, out of all of them, had Seth Harlan survived?

Soft hands swept across his shoulders, down his spine, and then circled his waist. Phoebe leaned her cheek against his bicep and met his gaze in the mirror. Next to him, her skin was milky perfection and only highlighted how monstrous he truly looked.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

Unable to manage an immediate reply, he swallowed hard. Shook his head. “How can you find this attractive?”

She took the forgotten towel from his numb fingers, gently dabbing his shoulders, chest, stomach.

His torso was a roadmap of suffering, the skin puckered and twisted from burns, lacerations, and God knew what else they’d subjected him to during those fifteen months of hell. Surgical scars crisscrossed his abdomen where the doctors had pieced him back together like some macabre jigsaw puzzle after his rescue.

And Phoebe touched him without flinching. Kissed him without hesitation. Let him bury himself inside her and held him tight as if she never wanted to let go.

Emotion clogged his throat. He didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve the way she looked at him, the gentle brush of her fingers over his ravaged skin. As if he was whole. Worthy.

Finally, she looped the towel around his waist and tucked the end in before entwining her fingers with his. “Can we try something I’ve been dying to do since we met?”

Thrown by the subject change, he let her lead him into the bedroom without protest. They’d already done the most intimate thing two people could possibly do together. What else could she be “dying” to do?

At the edge of the bed, she pushed on his chest until he sat, then, ignoring her own nakedness, she dug her camera bag out of a large bureau.

No.

Fuck that.

He sprang to his feet. “I don’t think so.”

She frowned over her shoulder as she fitted a lens onto the camera. “Trust me, Seth. Please.”

Seth clenched his jaw, unease crawling up his spine at the sight of the camera. Being photographed, having his scars and brokenness captured for posterity, felt too exposing, too raw.

But as Phoebe turned to face him, her expression soft and open, something in him yielded. He did trust her. More than he’d ever trusted anyone. If she wanted this, wanted him like this, then he’d give it to her. No matter how vulnerable it made him feel.

“Okay,” he said roughly, the single word scraping past the lump in his throat. “On the condition nobody but us sees them.”

Her smile was luminous, and her green eyes shone with an emotion that stole his breath. She stepped closer, one hand coming up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently over the ridge of scar tissue. “You’re beautiful, Seth Harlan. Every part of you.”

Seth’s breath caught at her words, at the tender reverence in her touch. He wanted so badly to believe her, to see himself through her eyes, but, man, what was he getting himself into? Self-conscious, he rubbed the back of his neck, which had gone hot to the touch.

Now he was blushing.

Great.

“Uh, what do you want me to do?”

“Just lay down on your stomach. No, wait.” She looped her camera around her neck and crossed to the bed. Considered it for a second, then yanked off the spread and rumpled the sheets. “There we go. Lay on your side here, arm tucked under your head. Oh, and get rid of the towel. There.” She positioned him and stepped back. Darted forward, trailed the sheet over his cock, just barely covering it, and backed up again, head tilted, calculation wrinkling her brow. As if he were livestock she was assessing for purchase.

“What do I do with this?” He lifted his free arm. Kinda felt like it was in the way, and he wasn’t sure where to put it.

“Just act natural,” she said and raised her camera, snapping a few shots of an area of his anatomy he’d really rather not be captured in a photo. “Where would you put it normally when you’re up on your side?”

If she was looking to make him more uncomfortable with his body, she was succeeding. But two could play at this game. If he had to be uncomfortable, so did she.

“Between your legs,” he answered.

A pink flush filled her breasts and crept up her neck into her cheeks. “Nice, Seth. But I’m not always in bed with you. Just relax. Forget the camera. Forget posing. How would you naturally lay if you were going to sleep right now?”

He flopped over onto his back, spread his legs, rested one hand on his chest, and threw the other arm over his head.

“There. Hold that.”

He shut his eyes and breathed out. Heard the click, click, click of her camera.

“Relax,” she murmured. “It’s just me.”

Just Phoebe. The woman who’d stormed past his defenses like they were made of paper. Who looked at him and saw not a broken soldier, but a man worthy of her touch, her trust.

Her love.

The thought stole the air from his lungs. Is that what this was between them? This soul-deep connection, the way she made him feel whole again?

“All right, perfect,” she said, deep in photographer mode, oblivious to his thoughts. “Now roll over and get comfortable on your stomach.”

He rolled, dragging the sheet with him, and wrapped his arms around one of the pillows. He felt Phoebe move to the top of the bed by his shoulder. More click, click, click ing. A few times, she had the camera so close to him that her breath skimmed across his skin and raised goose bumps as she looked through the viewfinder. His cock perked up, pressing painfully into the mattress.

Phoebe moved to the end of the bed, the soft click of her camera capturing his lower back, the curve of his ass, the muscled lines of his thighs. Seth’s heart raced, skin prickling with awareness at her intense scrutiny. He’d never felt so exposed, so seen. It was terrifying. Exhilarating.

She trailed her fingers down his spine in a feather-light caress that made him shiver. “Turn over for me, Seth.”

He hesitated only a moment before complying, settling onto his back. The sheet tangled around his hips, barely concealing his growing arousal. Phoebe’s gaze raked over him, hot and hungry, lingering on the ridged plane of his abs, the thickness of his chest and shoulders. When her eyes finally met his, they were dark with desire, pupils wide.

“You are the most stunning man I’ve ever seen,” Phoebe breathed, lowering the camera to drink him in unimpeded. Her gaze was a physical caress, igniting fires wherever it touched.

Seth’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. “Phoebe...” Her name emerged rough, pleading.

She let the camera fall to hang on the strap around her neck and crawled onto the bed, straddling his hips. The heat of her core pressed against his hardening length, separated only by the thin sheet. She splayed her hands on his chest, fingers tracing the myriad scars with a gentleness that made his heart clench.

“I see you, Seth Harlan. All of you. I want to touch you, taste you. Worship every inch of your body until you believe how incredible you are.”

The intensity of her words stole his breath. He couldn’t recall anyone ever looking at him with such raw adoration, such pure need shining in their eyes—even before he was scarred. It simultaneously thrilled and terrified him.

He surged up, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, one hand fisting in her hair as the other gripped her hip, grinding her against his aching cock. Phoebe moaned into the kiss, rolling her hips to create delicious friction through the fabric barrier.

His hand slid from her hair, down the elegant line of her spine to cup her rear, pulling her flush against him. He could feel the heat of her through the sheet, the slick evidence of her arousal dampening the fabric. He stroked his fingers through her slit, found her soaked, and dipped inside.

Breaking the kiss, she threw her head back on a moan, the elegant line of her throat too tempting to resist. He leaned forward, dragging his tongue along her racing pulse before sucking hard at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He’d leave a mark, a visible brand of his possession, and the thought sent a dark thrill through him.

She rode his fingers until she was panting, straining toward climax. Her camera still hung from the strap around her neck and bumped lightly against her belly with each rise and fall of her body. Shamelessly, she took her pleasure from him, and his own grew with every soft, sexy whimper from her throat.

When he skimmed his thumb over her clit, she came on his hand.

So fucking beautiful.

He lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked, the taste of her arousal like honey in his throat.

It wasn’t enough.

Gripping her hips, he lifted and repositioned her so that she was straddling his face. She gasped and tried to get up, but he held her still and tasted her. She vibrated over him, and her protests faded into moans as his tongue flicked out, dipped inside her, then circled her clit. When she came, fast and hard, his name was on her lips, and a primal thrill shot through him, drawing his balls up tight.

Christ, he wasn’t going to last much longer himself.

Phoebe laughed breathlessly, and a pink blush filled her cheeks again as she stretched out beside him. “Well, that was unexpected.”

He rolled up onto his side and took his cock in hand, stroking himself. She watched with hungry eyes, then covered his hand with her own and squeezed just hard enough. He cursed as his body jacked off the mattress, and his release jetted into both of their palms.

“Shit.” He scrambled upright and reached for the sheet. “Sorry. Let me?—”

Phoebe waved him off, and holding his gaze, she sucked the remnants of his orgasm off her fingers. And, fuck him if that wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in his life. If he hadn’t just come hard enough to see stars, he had no doubt he’d burst again from the sight alone. He fell onto the bed, exhausted, sated, and yet unbelievably aroused again.

“Phoebe, you’re… I don’t have words. Gonna kill me probably.”

Chuckling, she took the camera from around her neck and set it on the nightstand, then snuggled in beside him. Her head rested on his shoulder. “That’d be something, wouldn’t it? After everything else you’ve survived.”

“Death by sex.” He tangled his fingers into her curls. They weren’t soft but springy, and he liked the way they felt around his fingers. He tugged on one curl. “No better way to go.”

“Imagine the obituary.”

He swept a hand in a grand arc through the air. “Here lies Seth. Survived a war only to be sexed to death.”

She snorted and buried her face against his neck. “That’s so wrong. I shouldn’t laugh.”

“I wanted you to laugh. That was the point.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Phoebe started at the knock of a fist on their door. Seth simply lifted his head and scowled at the interruption.

“Hey.” She smiled up at him. “An unexpected noise, and you didn’t jump.”

“Progress,” he said.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Yo, lovebirds!”

“Fuck off, Marcus.” He lay back again, content to ignore his teammate. He tugged another of Phoebe’s curls until it was completely straight, then let it go and watched it bounce back.

She harrumphed. “Are you going to do that all night?”

“Yup.” To prove it, he wound another around his finger and dragged it out.

“I’ll look like a burning bush by the time you’re done. A frizzy, burning bush.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Hey, man, I feel ya,” Marcus called through the door. “I hate coitus interruptus as much as the next guy, but Gabe told me to pick the lock again if necessary, and I’d really rather not. So just get dressed and get your ass downstairs, okay? You have fifteen minutes.”

Phoebe sighed. “That sounds kind of important.”

“Unfortunately.” He’d hoped for more than a few hours with her before the team headed out. Wanted to stay in this room and indulge in the warmth she caused in his chest and revel in the sense of peace just lying beside her gave him.

Yeah, it was selfish. And, yeah, he felt like shit for even thinking it, but for the first time in years, he was… content. Relaxed even.

He propped himself up on his elbow and smiled down at her. Except she wasn’t smiling back. She stared at the door, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

“Hey.” Dragging a finger lightly along her jaw, he guided her gaze to him. “If you’re worried about the op, don’t be. We got this.”

“Oh,” she said and released her lip as if suddenly noticing the nervous gesture. “No, it’s not—I have complete faith you’ll stop Siddiqui.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth. No sound emerged.

Stomach tight with dread, he sat up. “Phoebe, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “It’s not important right now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Absolutely. We can talk when you get back.” She jumped from the bed. “I should shower again. I don’t want to face the guys with sex hair.” At the bathroom door, she glanced over her shoulder and finally smiled. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Yeah, okay. Be there in a sec.” He put his feet on the floor, but that was as far as he got. He stared into the open bathroom. Water came on, splashing against the tile floor. The shower door slid shut.

Still, he didn’t move.

When he first cornered Phoebe at the market, he’d been so sure she was lying, hiding something. As he’d gotten to know her in the days since, he had convinced himself his initial impression of her was nothing more than his paranoia talking.

But the look in her eyes just now…

Goddammit. Should have trusted his gut.